


Maker of the Forest

by TheGreatCatsby



Series: Online Fan Fic Challenges [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fantasy, Fantasy AU, Frosthawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a forest made of ice across the lake from the village, and no one dares to explore it. Clint Barton decides to investigate what makes the forest so uninviting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maker of the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of the 30 Day AU challenge stories. Day 1 is fantasy.

When Clint Barton was invited by Tony Stark to move to the city at the edge of the lake, he was told one thing: don’t go into the ice forest across the water. 

Clint has never heard of such a thing as an ice forest, let alone THE ice forest. Stark tells him over drinks one night that no one has actually been in the ice forest, though there are those who know about it. Clint asks if it has always been there or whether it is a more recent development, and Stark frowns and stares off into nothing and murmurs, “Funny, I have no idea." 

Stark is rich, the richest man in the city, and he takes in strays with special talents. Stark calls them special talents. Clint calls it weird. His own talent as a sharp shooter is one of the more tame talents among those. Stark has gathered a group that includes an assassin, a werewolf of sorts, multiple geniuses, a man who claims to control electricity (and Clint still won’t admit it’s true) and some of the most impossible technology Clint has ever seen. 

And that should be enough. Stark has taken Clint from his boring life hunting in the woods and given him company and purpose. It should be more than enough. 

But on the opposite shore of the lake the ice forest glitters and glistens, and it beckons. And Clint, for better or worse, has never backed away when he should. 

So one night, after a particularly long drinking session has left the rest of his friends unconscious, scattered around Stark’s home, Clint steals away on a boat to cross the lake. 

The lights from the city fade as Clint rows on, and the night air is bitingly cold. The forest of ice seems to glow from within on the opposite shore, even though there is no moon. There are only stars shimmering across the sky, and they are not bright enough to cast light upon the earth. They live in darkness, and Clint can’t understand why the forest glows. 

The water becomes harder to navigate, and Clint realizes that this is because there are chunks of ice. Chunks which become larger and larger until Clint’s boat is nearly stuck. And ahead of him, spreading out towards the shore, the ice becomes a solid sheet. 

Clint does what anyone would do. He climbs out of the boat and onto the ice. 

It takes him a moment to gain his bearings and not fall on his back and break his bones and his weapon, a bow and a quiver of arrows. They are the only things standing between him and possible death, and he would like to keep them intact. 

It takes only a handful of minutes to cross the ice by foot, and then Clint’s feet reach the shore, crunching over frozen sand. Ahead of him looms the ice forest, shining like something out of a strange sort of dream. Clint walks up to the nearest tree and touches it. 

The ice is cool and smooth. Clint notes with some surprise that the forest is not made of ice, but rather covered in it. The ice clings to every surface like a second skin, making each leaf, branch, and blade of grass look separate, and like it might shatter with the slightest disturbance. 

And it is quiet. Not even the wind passes through the icy branches. No living thing appears to be in the forest. 

Except Clint. 

Clint walks past the trees, feet crunching on icy grass and fallen leaves. 

After a few moments of walking, the only sound his own footfalls, Clint comes to a clearing. 

Each blade of grass gleams white in the field. Clint stands at the edge, afraid to disturb anything. 

"Who are you?" a voice asks from behind. 

In the space of a few seconds Clint grabs his bow and draws an arrow, so that by the time he turns around to see who stands behind him, he is ready to kill them before they kill him. 

Inwardly he curses himself for not having been more alert, to allow someone to sneak up on him so easily in such a foreign environment. 

The person on the other end of his arrow gives him pause. 

It is a man, tall and thin and pale, with black hair. He looks like the ice encasing the forest surrounding him. He wears white robes, and a cape of white feathers. Atop his head is a crown that anywhere else might have been a crown of thorns, but here it is a crown of ice. 

"I think the better question is, who are you?" Clint says. 

"I am the maker of this forest," the man tells him. “One might say that I am this forest. But you may call me Loki." 

Clint doesn’t move his arrow from where it points to Loki’s heart. “You made this place? Why?" 

"I needed a home of my own," Loki says, “a place to keep to myself for awhile, where no one would interfere. You," he adds with a pointed look, “are interfering." 

"What are you?" Clint asks. 

Loki smirks. “Well, that is something more difficult. Even I don’t know what I am sometimes. You might call me a sorcerer, or a monster."

None of this new information is comforting. “Why do people say not to come here? How long have you been here?" 

"Long enough," Loki says. His gaze feels like it could burn through Clint. “Very few are called to come to the forest, and even fewer actually come." 

"I wasn’t called here," Clint says. “I was just curious. So I came." 

"Aren’t they all," Loki murmurs. “But no, you were called, and you came. And those who come serve only one purpose: to join my ranks." 

Clint frowns, and his grip on his bow tightens. “Your ranks?"

"Yes. I seek revenge." 

"Against what?" 

"This world," Loki says. “Everything for something much more personal. But I am owed everything for the wrongs committed against me." 

"And you think I’m going to join your army?" Clint asks. “Well, you’re crazy. I just came to see what’s going on and then leave. I have people to get back to. I don’t want to get revenge on the world or whatever stupid idea you have in your head."

When Loki grins, it is like a stab wound in his face. “You will have no choice." 

Clint looses the arrow—

And it goes through Loki. 

He is shocked, even as he reaches back to draw another arrow. 

And then an icy hand stays his arm, just as the Loki in front of him disappears. 

Another arm snakes its way around Clint’s neck, and a voice whispers in his ear, “You are mine." 

Clint tries to struggle, but the grip is strong. And then he feels the ice.

It creeps into his veins from his fingertips, and spreads through his blood, freezing everything, freezing his brain and his limbs and eventually, his heart. 

When Loki lets go a few moments later, Clint replaces the arrow in his quiver. He knows this is wrong, but it feels right. Something in his mind, some part of him that isn’t ice screams, and he ignores it. He turns to look at Loki, who regards him with a small, satisfied smile. 

"My Lord," Clint says, “what would you have me do?" 

And Loki says, “Destroy everything." 

And Clint can do nothing but obey.


End file.
